


SSHG Drabbles Game

by jalapeno_eye_popper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Read at Own Risk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27662359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalapeno_eye_popper/pseuds/jalapeno_eye_popper
Summary: My contributions to a drabbles game on an SSHG Discord server. Each chapter title is a prompt in the game to which I responded. Major content warnings for super-squicky stuff will be used as needed at the beginning of a chapter, otherwise just sit back and enjoy!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	1. Bonfire

The distinctive smoke of the applewood. The crackles and pops of the embers. The bright light of the flame.

Surrounded by dancers, music, and laughter.

Severus didn't dance or laugh, but since the war ended he did scowl a little less, and he watched with smirking amusement.

Hermione was dancing, hair flying, her robes billowing and her laughter cackling. A true _witch._

He had to rein in some instinct to pull her away from the flames, lest that wild mane catch.

He did _not_ rein in the instinct to pull her away from the bonfire with him at the end of the night.


	2. Sexy

Satin was a truly underrated fabric. Soft and cool, a well-cut strip of fine satin could whisper beautiful promises against one's flesh. Even when wet with arousal, sweat, cum, or all of the above, satin would just become that much more enchanting. Enticing. A partner could peel it back slowly to reveal a glorious prize beneath.

Today, the color of the satin kissing the skin was pale champagne pink. There was no lace on the edges. These garments didn't need lace. The satin alone was sexy and perfect. The triangular planes of the knickers completely covered pubic hair in the front, but the rear revealed a fair amount of fleshy arse. The un-padded brassiere caught against pebbling nipples, causing a short little gasp with every movement.

Severus jumped a mile when Hermione appeared in the doorway and said loudly, "Oh, my, gods, what are you doing in my underwear?"

He raised one eyebrow. "Feeling sexy."


	3. Visceral

\----------

**Advanced Potion-Making**

_Property of the Half-Blood Prince_

\----------

 **Swelling Solution**   
Sliced Bat Spleen _(Use a silver knife)_

 **Parchment Preserving Potions**   
Blatta Pulvereus _(just the guts!)_

 **Aging Potion**   
Newt Spleen _(older newt for faster aging)_

 **Doxycide  
** Bundimun ~~Ooze~~ _(the entire Bundimun -- or only the gooey center?)_

 **Healing Potion for Internal Injuries**   
Dragon Liver _(shred with the same dragon's claw)_

 **Baruffio's Brain Elixir**   
Runespoor ~~Eggs~~ _(Intestine segment where the 3 heads meet)_

 **Veritaserum**   
Jobberknoll Feather _(compel more soul-deep truth with deeper viscera instead of feather)_


	4. Response

Ron opened his post and simply couldn't believe it. No. This was not happening. How could she?

⌟⚭⌞

Hermione Jean Granger   
_and  
_ Severus Tobias Snape

invite you to their private   
_wedding day_   
celebrations

at 3 o'clock in the afternoon   
on the 21st day of November

_Please respond by the 1st day of October._

⌝⚭⌜

Ron's hands shook as he set the card down. It was a joke, right? Fred and George were having one over on him. He would just floo call Hermione, and she'd be so embarrassed that they were using her to get a laugh. But he was trembling too much, and he fumbled the floo powder, spilling it everywhere. No matter. If it _was_ true, he really didn't want to know, let alone respond.


	5. Persuasion

After the war, the old House structures were replaced by dormitory groups that did _not_ assume too much about one's character at the age of eleven. This year the West Tower Woodpeckers won the House Cup, upsetting the rival incumbent Dungeon Dragons. Hermione was feeling quite smug at the Leaving Feast, as this was her first year with Head duties for West Tower.

She leaned over to whisper to Severus, "May I come to see you tonight?"

He didn't reply. He simply glared at his plate and stabbed fiercely with his fork. Her hand crept over to his thigh, and he froze with his fork half-way up to his face.

"You don't have to be alone and lick your wounded pride." She grinned. "Though I did imagine plenty of licking."

Severus set down his fork and turned his head to look at her, as if he was waiting for a humiliating punchline. She had more subtly expressed her desire in the past, hoping he would appreciate the discretion, but so far he just seemed suspicious. Tonight she would persuade him of her sincerity. She smiled and then stuck her tongue out to slowly run it over her lips, an illustration of the licking she had just promised.


	6. nostalgia

"The only Hogwarts professor to start younger than me was you. Minerva thought she was warning me off, when she brought that up, as if I didn't already know. The situation is entirely different, of course. Apples and oranges. Not least because I _want_ to teach.

"But the burden is still huge, the weight of educating these children. Almost all of them can see the thestrals. I've taken Head of House duties in the dungeons, too. By some miracle the Board of Governors accepted our plan to retire the Sorting Hat and make the dorm assignments random. So that's easier. Fewer bad assumptions about each child's virtues, or lack thereof, and hardly any blood purity rhetoric. The rivalries seem healthy now, instead of bitter.

"Being on the other side of the teacher's desk makes me appreciate you a whole lot more. The word _dunderhead_ came out of my mouth at the last staff meeting, and everyone went silent. Pomona shed a tear. I've cried a bit myself, regretting every time I helped Neville with his potion instead of his confidence. I've already got a student approaching his record for melted cauldrons.

"Anyway, I've been thinking about you a lot, and I just wanted to say so. I might actually _miss_ you, which I'm sure would earn me some comment about being insufferable. You and I didn't have any happy memories, but I'm starting to think there's a chance we could have, if only..."

Hermione placed a single white lily on the small gravestone and cast a preservation charm. As she turned away, she promised, "I'll be back to rage about dunderheads then next time one of them blows up a cauldron."


	7. Instinct

Sev was a sucker for intuitive women. Where he had to scheme and study and drill to master his talents, Lily had performed magic as though it were as natural as breathing. Her very soul was drawn to magic by instinct, by innocence, and by love.

Hermione was more like him, studying and drilling and losing sleep over meticulous analysis. But every so often, she'd come to him with her hair frizzier than usual and a glow in her cheeks and a brilliant new idea to share. He would try to find fault. He would try to play devil's advocate. He would even try to scowl and sneer, but he probably had a stupid grin on his face when she was so _alive_ with magic.

Despite everything she'd been through, her first instinct was still to save the world, and she had the brains and ambition to make a difference. She was already a Master, but there were still sixth months left to her apprenticeship. He was counting down the days. Then _he_ would trust his instincts, and he would tell her how he felt.


	8. propaganda

Hermione burst into the lab, brandishing a parchment. "Have you seen this?"

Severus raised one eyebrow, but did not look away from his brew. To illustrate his current occupation, he counted his stirs out loud, "Thirteen. Fourteen. Reverse. One. Two..."

"This will send every werewolf back underground!" Hermione paced along the wall, and Severus was amused at how she picked up this mannerism from him, but noticing it distracted him to nearly miss the next reverse. He tuned her out as she babbled, finished stirring, and then cleaned his work table as the potion cooled. Finally he gave her his focus, just in time to hear the end of her rant, "...and St. Mungo's has already sacked Master Belby!"

Severus held out one hand, and Hermione gave him the document. The phrases were memorably pithy, and the animated illustrations were fearsomely graphic. He murmured, "This is one hell of an anti-werewolf propaganda piece."

"I know you have some hangups about making Wolfsbane..."

He held up a halting hand. She wasn't wrong. A near miss with a werewolf was only the first of Severus' many brushes with death over the years, and he didn't particularly care for doing or seeing anything that reminded him of it. The blatant work of fiction in his hand was especially chilling. But there was an obvious solution. "We'll hire him."

"What?"

"Master Belby was sacked, right? We will hire him to work for my company, and the werewolves will not have to go without while you keep fighting at the Ministry."

Hermione's eyes were watery.

Severus dropped the offensive parchment on the floor and reached for her, gathering her up in his arms and holding her tightly. "Leave the well-being of the werewolves to me and Master Belby, so you can focus on fixing this injustice." He pressed a swift, chaste kiss to her lips and added, "Let me know when you find out who is responsible for that flyer, and I'll work them over for you."

A wicked smile appeared on her lips. "Between Veritaserum and Legilimency, you do make a damn fine interrogator." She initiated the next kiss, and it was much less chaste than the one he offered. They both sighed as they broke apart. Then she stepped back and teased too sweetly, "Tie me up and question me later?"

Mouth dry, he could only nod.

She winked, and flounced off to fight the good fight.


	9. Syrup

Hermione dragged appraising eyes up and down the nude form on her bed, lean and pale and _all hers_ for the night. She was awed and humbled by the trust he showed in her. She certainly wouldn't allow him to tie _her_ up without a wand in her hand.

His eyes were closed, and the only hint at his anxiety was the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

Hermione picked up the small dish in one hand, smirking at the "paint" she had chosen. As a daughter of dentists, she had been a wee bit disturbed by the river of sugar on his breakfast pancakes, but his affinity for real maple syrup was adorable. This was a man who had enough suffering, and now appreciated the little things in life: delicious food, comfortable furniture, and cozy cuddles.

She settled next to him, bouncing a bit on the pillowtop fluff of the bed. "Ready, love?"

Dark eyes opened, and even in this vulnerable position, his nod was curt and commanding.

One quick dip of her finger into the dish, and then Hermione brought it to her mouth. "Mmm," she hummed, and then didn't hesitate to dip again. She wrote in large letters, sideways down the front of his torso from collarbone to pubic bone:

_**Sweet Severus** _

Then she set the bowl down, bared her teeth at him in a leering grin, and bent down to trace the words again with her tongue.


	10. library

"I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and --" But she turned slightly pink and did not complete the sentence. (HBP p185)

\----------

Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She leaned forward slightly, lips parting to better fill the olfactory and her lungs. She just caught herself from rubbing her thighs together, instead planting her Mary Janes primly on the floor and refocusing on her book.

_Forest Fungus of the British Isles_

She suspected she would soon need this skill, identifying what was safe to eat in the wild. Oh, she would pack a veritable feast in her beaded bag, but she was no fool. Teenagers could eat a lot. Athletic teenage boys doubly so. She was nervous. Hermione had never really learned to cook. Ron, definitely not. Harry, maybe, but with a fully stocked kitchen in the suburbs. It might not be Michelin-star worthy, but she would learn enough to stay alive.

So she would study now, while she still had access to this trove of essential information and endless comfort. There wouldn't be a library when they had to run. Every time her anxiety rose, Hermione turned to her first true love. Books. So here she was, in her favorite corner nook of the Hogwarts library, taking deep great breaths of the stale air full of _book dust_ , just like her amortentia fumes.


End file.
